He climbed into the bed and exhaled into the fresh pillowcase. He’d been raised by governesses and nurses, taught all the proper manners, was sent to the best schools. Both he and Gilbert were expected to do great things with their lives and contribute to the prestige of the family name. He knew he’d been very fortunate to have the upbringing he did, but he couldn’t stop wondering what it would have been like to be raised in a house like this, with hand-stitched pictures on the walls and pirate stories told by firelight before bed.
Pirate stories. He smiled in the darkness, thinking about Miss Palmer. She certainly knew how to gain an audience. The boys were so full of questions, she hadn’t been able to tell a full story at all, but what she did say was fascinating. He wanted to ask her what book she’d read to know so much about Blackbeard. He wanted to ask her where she learned to cook. He wanted to ask her so many things . . . As he drifted off to sleep, he realized, he didn’t care what he asked her. He just wanted to spend time with her . . . doing absolutely anything.
Stephen was awakened the next morning by bright sunlight streaming in through the little window high in the wall across from his bed. At first, he couldn’t remember where he was. Then he sprang out of bed and dressed, eager to see what was going on in the rest of the household. Eager for some breakfast. Eager to see if Miss Palmer was the one who had made it.
He paused at the thought midway through putting on his shoes. Miss Palmer. She’d been his last thought when he drifted off, and she was present on his mind nearly as soon as he awoke. That must mean something . . . or maybe he was just hungry. Being hungry would always make a person more appreciative of the cook.
No, she was so much more than a cook, and he was a fool if he tried to talk himself out of feeling the way he did. There was something about her—something that very much spoke to him. Something that felt more like family than anything he’d ever had before, and he liked it. It was as though his soul craved it, that sense of belonging.
He wanted what these little boys had.
After tidying up the room and making sure he’d left nothing of his behind, Stephen went downstairs and found Sarah in the kitchen, mixing eggs in a large bowl. She looked up and smiled when she saw him.
“Have you looked out the window?” she asked by way of greeting.
“No, not yet.” He walked over and peered outside. He’d suspected as much from the way his room had been filled with sunlight, but the clouds had all blown over, and the sky was as clear as anything he’d ever seen. He loved the brilliant blue of a winter sky after a storm. It reminded him of a robin’s egg.
“I guess this means the luncheon is on,” she said.
“I believe it will be. The snow seems to be drifted up against the sides of the buildings, and there’s not much on the roads.” He turned away from the window, a realization hitting him. “I’d best go tell Mother I’m all right.”
Sarah paused in her mixing. “You can’t stay for breakfast?”
“I wish I could. Believe me, I wish I could. If the meal you prepared last night was any indication, I’m missing out on something wonderful. But Mother . . . with no way to contact her last night, I’m sure I scared her.”
“That’s true. Yes, you should go to her.” Sarah put down the bowl and turned to a cutting board, where a loaf of bread sat next to a knife. “Take a piece of bread with you, though. No sense heading off on a completely empty stomach.” She smeared some butter on the slice she’d just cut and handed it over. Her fingers brushed his, sending a tingle up into his elbow.
“Thank you,” he said, momentarily taken aback. He hadn’t expected to have that kind of reaction to her touch. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched a woman’s hand, let alone how it made him feel—he didn’t know if this was natural or special, if it meant something or if it was just a passing sensation. “I’ll have Mother send a carriage for you this afternoon.”
“I don’t know,” Sarah said, picking up her bowl and giving the eggs another beating. “Seems to me that every time someone sends a carriage for me, unfortunate things happen. I’m starting to think it’s a bad omen.”
“I don’t have to send one,” he started, but she interrupted him with a chuckle.
“No, that’s all right. I’m joking. I’d appreciate it very much.”
“Good. I’ll have it arrive no later than noon.”
“Perfect.”
He wanted to stay longer, to come up with another excuse to ask her a question or say something more, but he knew he needed to get back to the house. With a “Good day, Miss Palmer,” he pulled the kitchen door closed behind him and walked out to the shed for his horse, munching the slice of bread as he went. Bread had never tasted so good.
Chapter Twelve
Denver, Colorado
1875
“You’re going to the luncheon?” Felicity stood in Sarah’s bedroom doorway, rocking back and forth with tiny Charity in her arms. “After everything that’s happened?”
Sarah finished pinning up her hair and turned toward her cousin. “I’ll be fine. I’ve decided it’s time for me to go in there and take a stand—not just against the Howards, but this whole town.”
“You’re not taking a gun, are you?”
Sarah laughed. “That’s almost exactly what Stephen said. No, I’m not taking a gun, but I am going in fully armed with my wits. They’re not going to catch me off guard again. I know full well they don’t like me and that inviting me is nothing but a popularity ploy, and I think I’ll be able to use that to my advantage.”
“Now I’m a little more nervous than I would be if you’d said that you were in fact bringing a weapon.”
Sarah picked up her gloves. “Why? Don’t you believe I can do it?”
“Oh, I definitely believe you can. That’s the problem—what kind of rubble will you leave in your wake?” Felicity stepped forward and gave Sarah a one-armed hug. “Good luck, and remember, they’re just ordinary people. Whatever power they have in this town, they have because people gave it to them.”
“Isn’t it interesting that you’re only as important as you make other people believe you are?” Sarah pulled on her gloves as she spoke, then gave the baby a quick kiss on the forehead.
“Now, that’s not entirely the case. You’ll always be important to the people who love you,” Felicity corrected her.
“True. There are several different kinds of important, I suppose.” Sarah turned toward the stairs when she heard the boys coming up them.
“Sarah! Sarah! A carriage is here for you!” Charlie shouted. “Except it’s not a carriage. It’s a sleigh!”
“All right, thank you. But soften your voice, please. Your mother is putting your sister to sleep.”
All three boys immediately became contrite, even though Charlie was the only one who had yelled.
When Sarah went outside and pulled the door closed behind her, she was delighted to see that yes, she would be riding in a sleigh rather than a carriage. What surprised her most, however, was to see that Stephen was her driver. He touched his hat as she approached, and gave her a hand up into her seat.
“You said bad things always happen to you when someone sends a carriage, so we should do something to break the curse,” he said. “I brought a sleigh instead, and I thought that my natural good luck might offset some of the bad.”
“Your natural good luck?” Sarah asked, trying to hide a smile.
“That’s right. I bring you good luck, don’t I?”
“Well, I’d say that a time or two, you have nullified some of the bad things that have happened,” she admitted.
“You see? I am the perfect choice.” He climbed up into the driver’s seat, and the sleigh slid across the snow with almost no effort whatsoever. It was like gliding on glass.
The air was still cold, but the sky was so bright, Sarah could imagine that she was warm. By the time they reached the mansion, she still wasn’t feeling the chill. Stephen helped her down, wished her luck,
and motioned for her to go inside. He’d be putting up the horse, he said.
Sarah climbed the porch steps and then paused before knocking. She could do this—she knew she could. She could not, however, stop thinking about the early Christians who were thrown to the lions by the Romans. Here she was, walking into that lions’ den of her own free will and choice. She had plainly lost her mind.
When she finally did reach out to knock, she was answered by a butler who took her wrap and ushered her into a large parlor off to the right. Several women were there, all dressed in their afternoon finery, and as always, Sarah felt like the plain little sparrow mixed in with the swans. She wasn’t about to dwell on that, though. She would hold her head high. That was part of what she’d come here to do—a very important part.
“Miss Palmer, I’m so glad you came.” Millicent Howard crossed the room to greet her, the hem of her amber velvet dress swishing across the carpeting. “I understand you and your family took Stephen in when he got stranded last night.”
“It was our pleasure,” Sarah replied, accepting the hand Mrs. Howard offered.
“I’m sure that if he couldn’t sleep in his own bed, your house was a suitable substitute.” Mrs. Howard gave what she probably thought was a benevolent smile. “It certainly was a relief to see him this morning. I didn’t know if he was stranded somewhere, or if he’d just gone straight home to his boarding house.” She leaned forward and spoke confidingly. “He and his father had a misunderstanding, and he took his own place right afterwards. I keep telling him that he’s a Howard, and Howards live in the mansion, but he feels he’s being noble. He’s always doing that, you know—things that are noble. Rescuing lost souls, bringing in the strays, that sort of thing.”
The look she gave Sarah as she spoke plainly said that she considered Sarah to be one of those lost souls, one of those strays. Sarah was determined not to let it affect her. “It’s a wonderful character trait to have,” she replied. “My neighbor while I was growing up was also fond of taking in strays. At the time of her death, she had somewhere above a hundred cats living in her home.”
Mrs. Howard’s hand flew to her chest. “A hundred cats? I’ve never heard of so many. I do hope her house was large.”
“Not very. Certainly nothing like this.” Sarah gave an appreciative look around. “Why, I’m sure you could fit thousands of cats in here.”
“Oh, my.” Mrs. Howard began to fan herself. “That’s certainly a lot. Have you greeted my mother-in-law yet?”
What a quick change of subject. Sarah smiled, pleased with herself for rattling Mrs. Howard so thoroughly. She actually hadn’t known how the woman felt about cats, but considering the pristine state of the interior of the home, she figured it was a safe bet.
“No, I haven’t seen her yet,” she replied once she took a moment to recall what the question had been.
“She’s sitting right over here.” Mrs. Howard led the way, and the women seemed to part like the Red Sea as she approached. Sarah smiled to herself. She didn’t know why all these biblical metaphors were coming to mind—maybe this was God’s way of reminding her that she hadn’t been to church for a few weeks. She truly did believe that God had a sense of humor. Some things wouldn’t exist if He didn’t.
Mrs. Victoria Howard sat on a divan in the corner of the room, supposedly out of the way, and yet very much the center of attention. It was as though all else rotated in orbit around her. Mrs. Howard led Sarah up to the divan and nudged her forward. “Mother, do you remember Miss Palmer? She was the special guest at the large gathering we held last summer?”
Victoria brought a monocle to her eye and looked Sarah over. “Oh, yes. You’re the unfortunate young woman who had the temerity to try to marry our Gilbert. What brings you back, young lady? Have you decided to try for Stephen now? You should have tried for him first—he’s the elder, so more of the estate will go to him.”
“Oh, I’m sure she means nothing of the kind, Mother,” Mrs. Howard said, but not one bit of her voice seemed to be raised in protest. Where were some kindly souls to stand up for Sarah?
She realized that she was her only advocate at this gathering. This was exactly how Mrs. Howard had planned it—to show Sarah in the saddest, most pathetic light possible in front of these society ladies once again. Well, Sarah wasn’t about to be subjected to that one more time.
“Hello, Mrs. Howard,” she said with a slight curtsy. “I appreciate your telling me about Stephen’s inheritance. I hadn’t realized that. Where is he? I’ll go talk to him about it right away.”
Victoria spluttered. “You will do no such thing!”
“I won’t? I thought that’s what you were advising me to do. I want to go about this as wisely as I can, you see. And you’re right—why try for the younger brother when the older is still available? You’re a gem, Mrs. Howard. How did you learn all this, or was it just trial and error?”
Victoria Howard looked like she could simply explode with anger, and Millicent looked horrified. “Come with me and let’s get you a plate,” she said after a long, awkward pause.
“Oh, you’re too kind,” Sarah said, giving Victoria another slight curtsy.
As they walked away, Millicent grabbed Sarah’s arm so hard, it hurt. “Miss Palmer, what on earth has gotten into you? Whatever possessed you to speak that way to my mother-in-law?”
Sarah turned to her with wide eyes. “I’m sorry—I didn’t realize I was being inappropriate. I suppose I was never taught any better.”
“Well, I’ll teach you a lesson right now, young lady. When you’re in the company of your betters, you will speak with respect. Do you understand me?”
Sarah glanced around. They were standing in front of a small alcove, a perfect place for a quiet conversation. This would do nicely—she no longer had any desire to make a public scene. She just wanted a chance to have her say. “Thank you, Mrs. Howard. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Perhaps you would be so good as to tell me when I am in the company of my betters, because from what I can see, we’re all on the same footing. You may have more wealth than I, but money can’t buy morals or character. It’s true that I’ve lost my parents, but that was by no fault of my own. What other faults do I have, Mrs. Howard? Please tell me so I might answer for them as well.”
Millicent’s mouth opened and closed. Then her eyes grew hard. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Coming in here to criticize me in my own house, probably hoping to embarrass me in front of all my friends?”
“None of your friends can hear us, Mrs. Howard. We’re quite alone. I’m the one who was embarrassed in front of all your friends, if you’ll care to remember.”
“I remember it, all right. I remember how you tried to get your claws into my son. It was the most humiliating spectacle of my life.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Mrs. Howard. I never wanted to marry Gilbert. The entire thing was a misunderstanding, and it was only your overreaction to it that made it into such a spectacle. We could have laughed it off as a silly mistake and enjoyed the rest of the evening, but you chose to create that scene, not me. I admit, I did have thoughts about coming in here and ruining your entire party. I had a bit of fun with your mother-in-law just now, but that’s as far as it went and as far as it’s going to go. I’ve realized this simply isn’t worth my time. So thank you for the invitation, but I’m afraid I must be on my way.”
“Yes, that’s probably for the best.” Millicent pressed her lips together. “It just goes to show that this is what I get when I try to give some Christian charity.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “If that’s how you choose to view this whole thing, there’s nothing I can do to convince you otherwise. Good afternoon, Mrs. Howard.”
She turned on her heel and exited the room to find Stephen waiting in the hallway. “Hello there. I wonder if you’d be so good as to drive me home.”
“I will.” He looked her up and down. “You’re still in one piece, I see.”
&n
bsp; “Did you expect anything different?”
“I had a few doubts, but I shouldn’t have.”
She snatched her wrap from a rack as they walked past, still listening to Stephen.
“In fact, I caught the last few minutes of your conversation with Mother. You really are quite the remarkable young woman.”
Sarah concentrated on her feet as they went outside. “I don’t know about that. I didn’t like speaking so harshly to your mother. Parents should be honored and respected. I don’t feel very proud of myself at all.”
Stephen didn’t respond, and she glanced over at him curiously. “I’m sorry. Did I say something upsetting?”
“Miss Palmer, I wonder if I might confide something to you.”
“I . . . suppose.” Why did he want to confide in her? Whatever it was, she doubted she was in a position to help him. She had no power whatsoever.
“Now that the sun is out, it’s made for a very nice day. Why don’t we take a sleigh ride while we talk?”
“That sounds very nice.” In fact, she could think of very little she’d enjoy more.
Chapter Thirteen
Denver, Colorado
1875
Stephen left her standing in the shelter of the porch, and a moment later, he drove the sleigh around the corner of the house. “I had a feeling we shouldn’t let the horse get too comfortable,” he said with a chuckle as he got down to help her inside.
“That was very wise.”
They trotted down the street and then turned the corner. When they passed the department store, Stephen nodded toward it. “Have you been into Daniels and Fisher on this trip?”
“No, not yet. I thought I’d pay a visit at some point before I head home.”
“They’ve expanded quite a bit since last summer. I think you’ll be favorably impressed.”
The Bitter and the Sweet (Kansas Crossroads Book 9) Page 8